


The Scent of a New Self

by WackyGoofball



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Future Fic, Love, Post-Canon, Prompt Fic, Returning Home, Romance, Self-Reflection, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 23:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WackyGoofball/pseuds/WackyGoofball
Summary: Brienne returns home to Tarth after the Great War against the living dead.Some smells make her realize that some things are strange now, while others are perfectly familiar.





	The Scent of a New Self

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Julieoftarth (Wherethereissmoak)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wherethereissmoak/gifts), [Isola_Caramella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isola_Caramella/gifts).



> Hello everyone, thanks for looking into this short story. 500 words, as the prompt said... that is very short for me, LOL. 
> 
> The prompt is by JulieofTarth and was the word "smell" whereas Isola_Caramella was so kind to start this Tumblr Challenge, which is why that fic is gifted to the both of them. Also, they are amazing and deserve more fic than I write. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the short journey!
> 
> Much love! ♥♥♥

Coming back to Tarth changed everything.

Or rather, it made Brienne realize that _she_ had changed.

And that even though Brienne thought that what Goodwin always said about her way of wielding the sword was also true for her person – persistent, unchanging. However, Brienne’s journey? It did something to her, and Brienne didn’t see it until she returned to the place where she thought she would always be the same.

It began when Brienne had the scent of familiar waters in her nostrils, the burn of salt, sensory impressions that had Brienne’s mind go back to the path she was on before she travelled the Seven Kingdoms in a quest for honor – and unknown to most, for love, too. It had her think back to the girl who made picked up the sword instead of her dancing lessons, who didn’t want her septa to know how much her comments cut her confidence, a bleeding Brienne only staunched once she started cutting with a sword with confidence, who fought boys calling her names, who knocked men into the dust.

Inhaling the salty sea air, Brienne reckoned she would find her mirror back on the isle, which she had abandoned when she joined Renly’s army such a long time ago. That Brienne would be that freakish woman again whom people laughed at behind her back or to her face, the woman who wouldn’t let anyone know that a part of her always hurt, even if not as much as a blade or an icy scythe in the hands of a White Walker ever could.

And yet, once her boots sank into familiar soil, Brienne found everything different, found herself different, out of place while right at the place where she had begun.

“Scared, wench? That’d be unlike you.”

And that was when she knew, turning her head to look at the man who, over the course of the journey, their many fights with swords and words, managed to change her path without Brienne realizing until she took in the smell of home, the scent of her former self now faded.

Jaime’s stump pressing against her wrist was all it took to remind Brienne of the person she became on the passage North, of when she stopped being the Maid of Tarth, unkissed, unloved, and gave herself over to the feelings for a man that she kept hidden, locked away behind oaths and stolen glances. It reminded her of a cold night up North, the smell of furs and their own bodies united in the face of the Great War.

The smell of freshly fallen snow under a heart tree, muttering the words that ended the Maid of Tarth and brought forth the Lady of Tarth, _his_ lady.

“Not scared, no.”

“Then what?”

“Just… arriving here, back home. _Our_ home.”

His smile was all it took Brienne to know that her future bore a different scent, which, nonetheless, was familiar to her now – because it was his, him.

It will always be him.


End file.
